


In Technicolor

by cornpony



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Smut, Speeding Bullet (Team Fortress 2), maybe like a tiny amount of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:52:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7079818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornpony/pseuds/cornpony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sniper gets a new television set installed in his camper and invites Scout over to watch it with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Technicolor

He'd had this done to him before, lotsa times, but it had never been like this _._ Maybe Sniper was the first person who actually knew what he was doing down there.Or maybe it was because Sniper was…well, _Sniper._ All Scout knew for sure was that his inner thighs, his lips, even the tips of his toes were tingling, which was something that had never happened before.And it felt _damn_ good.

Sniper had invited him over on the pretense of watching television.Engie had just put it in the other day, he'd said. Good-sized screen, clear picture, lotsa channels.Sniper went on to list some of the shows coming on that night that they could watch, and Scout had just nodded, knowing full-well that if Sniper wanted the two of them to sit and watch paint dry together, then that’s how he’d be spending his Wednesday night. 

And poor Sniper probably _had_ intended to watch television, but Scout had sorta…derailed that notion.

He wandered over to the record player while Sniper fixed coffee, running a fingertip over the sizable vinyl collection.Sniper liked some weird shit that Scout didn’t really care for, but they agreed on a lot.He pulled Bob Dylan from the record shelf and dropped him into the turntable, that nasally, jerky voice swelling through the camper van. 

Very carefully, Scout watched Sniper out of the corner of his eye, pretending to still be interested in the record collection.The Australian reached up into a kitchen cabinet, his shirt riding up and exposing a sliver of abdomen, and procured two glass mugs.He puttered about the minuscule kitchen, grabbing this and that, then began his meticulous little way of preparing coffee.The actual coffee went in the mug first, followed by the sugar; the left mug got two teaspoons and the right one got five, so Scout knew the one on the right was for him.Now for the vanilla—three drops in each (Sniper claimed this was the most important part).Both mugs were then topped off with milk and stirred.

It was nice, yeah, to see Sniper doing something other than cleaning a gun or sharpening a knife or some other work-related chore, actually doing something—domestic, wouldja call it?But that wasn’t what Scout was looking at, not really.Scout put this particular album on because he had a hunch it was Sniper’s favorite.Every time it played, Sniper would mouth the song lyrics to himself—until he caught Scout looking at him, then he’d get all red-faced and quit. _How does it feel—to be on your own—with no direction home,_ Sniper mouthed, his lips barely moving.Scout had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from grinning.

They took their coffee to the little couch which used to be facing a bookshelf, but the bookshelf had given way to a television set.They had a television in the base’s rec room, too, but that one was just a junky black-and-white model sitting atop a card table.Sniper’s television was built into its own wooden cabinet, with two huge speakers on either side of the screen and four stubby legs bolted to the floor.Brand new, of course, so it was definitely full-color.Scout didn’t know a damn thing about decorating, but the television looked right at home amongst the wood panelling that lined the walls and the orange shag carpet at his feet.

But somehow, the television didn’t come up first in conversation—they’d veered off onto something else as soon as the two of them had sat down together, talking about a movie coming out that Sniper’d heard about on the radio.It just trailed away from there and the television remained off.

The conversation turned into half-lidded eyes and suggestive smiles, which led to coffee-flavored kissing, which somehow ended up in Scout sitting at the edge of the couch, pants and boxers pooled around his ankles, Sniper kneeling before him.

Scout hadn’t intended to go this far with Sniper so quickly, he really hadn’t.Scout’s career choice, his unrequited crush on Miss Pauling that he’d _finally_ been able to get over, and his general dumbassery were all reasons why he’d never had an actual relationship.He didn’t really know how to have one, besides a quick fuck in a bar or the occasional hotel hookup.But he was pretty sure that once you went past “coworkers” and transcended to “friends,” then meandered on into “we don’t know what this is but we kiss each other when we can get away with it,” there were several more steps you needed to take before you got to “getting your cock sucked in a camper van.”Scout really hoped he hadn’t screwed this up already—whatever “ _this_ ” was.

His fingers gripped the edge of the couch as another wave of white-hot pleasure rolled over him.A sound somewhere between a groan and a whine escaped his mouth, and in response to the noise, he felt Sniper’s lips pull into a grin around his shaft. 

Sniper’s pace was maddeningly slow and measured, but that was a big part of what made it so enticing.It was almost like Sniper was teasing him and, well, apparently Scout liked being teased. 

Scout tried to voice this opinion of his.

“Hnn,” was all he could manage.

Close enough.

After a few more long moments of this bliss, the mouth removed itself from around his length.He gasped at the sudden loss of warmth and contact.

“Sorry,” Sniper said, looking up at him with eyes that truly did look apologetic.Briefly, Sniper kneaded the heels of his hands against either side of his face.“Bloody jaws are achin’.Gimme a sec.”

“It’s alri—“ Scout started to assure him, but the word died in his throat, to be replaced with a shaky sigh.In lieu of his mouth, Sniper offered up his fist, securing it around the base of Scout’s cock.

That hand was thick and rough with callouses, and though it wasn’t quite as warm as Sniper’s mouth, it was plenty warm enough.Much as he’d done with his mouth, Sniper was pumping at Scout’s spit-slicked cock with precise jerks of the wrist—slow, deliberate, calculating.Scout felt his hips twitch each time that hand brushed over the head of his shaft.Why did it feel so— _good_?His brain was telling him it was just a handjob and should therefore be nothing particularly spectacular, but holy _shit,_ his brain was wrong.If Sniper’s jaw was sore from doing Scout a favor, and this was the way Sniper wanted to finish things up, that’d be just fine wi—

Scout took a sharp intake of breath as a tongue teased the underside of his cockhead, Sniper’s hand never ceasing its precise little movements.The steady friction of Sniper’s fist melded together with the languid strokes of his tongue, dragging a litany of half-formed words and poorly-concealed moans from Scout’s mouth. 

“Shit,” Scout breathed, wanting so badly to tangle his fingers into Sniper’s thick head of hair, but he didn’t want to risk making Sniper uncomfortable.He had a hunch Sniper wouldn’t much like that, though he didn’t know why he thought this.Better behave himself and keep his hands on the side of the couch, just to be safe.

Now Bob Dylan was singing _won’t you come see me, Queen Jane, won’t you come see me, Queen Jane_ , but Scout could give a fuck less about Bob Dylan because the calloused hand was replaced by that sweet, warm wetness again.

“Mmh—“

Scout could feel the trepidation in the way Sniper worked his mouth and tongue; it was cautious, exploring.The Australian used a combination of the two to massage at the head of Scout’s length, which Scout vocalized his appreciation of with involuntary hisses and squeaks.Scout’s fingertips clawed at the edge of the couch.He wouldn’t be surprised if he wore a hole in the fabric before this was all over with.

The mouth pulled away from his head, and Scout wondered if Sniper’s jaw was cramping up again.He’d been trying not to look down, for fear that he’d make Sniper feel embarrassed or something, but he had to see what was going on.He looked down just in time to see Sniper position his tongue at the underside of his cock, down at the hilt.The two men locked eyes as Sniper dragged his tongue slowly upward.

Sniper’s face was studious, his eyes gauging Scout’s reaction.That smoldering look in the Aussie’s eyes—a hint of nervousness overshadowed by a desire to please—was almost more than Scout could take.He didn’t know that just a _look_ could make him feel so desperate for someone.He bit hard on his lower lip, trying to get ahold of himself.

“Ah, God,” he moaned, and he felt a trickle of saliva running down his chin.What the hell?He’d never done that before, that’s for sure.He unhinged one of his hands from the couch, meaning to wipe the spit from his chin, but ended up raking his fingers through his own hair instead.He gripped a fistful of it and swallowed the excess saliva that had pooled into his mouth.

Sniper was smirking at him, his lips resting on the tip of Scout’s length.

_That smug bastard’s gonna make me beg for it, ain’t he_ , Scout thought, resisting the urge to jerk his hips.Well, if begging’s what Sniper wanted, Scout would be more than happy to oblige, at that point.He’d fall to his knees like a hooker in church and sing hallelujah and plead for—

And then suddenly, those lips and that tongue were back around his cock with a vengeance.Scout tried to gasp but his breath hitched, creating a garbled hiccup of sorts as Sniper sucked him, the Aussie’s pace a few notches faster than it had been before.

The tingling Scout felt in his thighs and toes and lips was spreading, radiating throughout his entire body.Every single nerve ending contained within his earthly husk was alive and buzzing. _How can this feel so good?How can this feel so good?_ His brain kept asking.Scout didn’t have an answer for that.He didn’t know, and he really didn’t fuckin’ care, either. 

He was only half aware of the desperate mewls tumbling from his mouth, but how could he _not_ be moaning when he was watching Sniper’s mouth working him like that?Not to mention Sniper’s cheeks were ever-so-slightly hollowed, and the sultry look of that alone was enough to drive Scout insane.

Scout wasn’t gonna make it much longer.The feeling of his rapidly-approaching orgasm stirring in his gut made him want to sob.Couldn’t this just go on forever?He’d be good with that.

He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling, chest heaving. 

“Snipes, I’m gonna…” he whimpered.“I’m gonna…”

It was like he jammed a metal fork into an electrical outlet.He convulsed and jittered, neurons in his brain firing signals to parts of his body he hadn’t even known could experience pleasure.He was dimly aware that he’d half-screamed a word—he thought it was _fuck_ , but he really couldn’t remember—as his impending orgasm tipped him over the edge.

Then he looked down.Oh, did he _ever_ look down.Sniper’s brow was furrowed in concentration, mouth still clamped firmly around Scout’s cock, catching the come that jetted from the tip.It was the hardest Scout had ever come in his life, and he dearly hoped he wouldn’t drown the man in seed.He felt his length jerk five times— _five!! holy shit, five, are you frikkin’ kiddin’ me!!_ —before it ceased.

Sniper eased his mouth away from Scout’s rapidly dwindling erection.Scout wondered where Sniper planned on spitting his mouthful out—the empty coffee cup, maybe? or was that too gross?—but Scout watched as Sniper worked his tongue around in his mouth a moment, then swallowed it down.

( _!!!Oh my God!!!_ )

Scout needed to say something appreciative, something heartfelt.“Holy shit,” Scout managed to say, his own tongue feeling thick and stupid.“You’re amazing.”

Sniper looked quite pleased with himself, as well he should.“So I gathered, from all that screamin’ you were doin’ up there,” Sniper said with a smirk.Scout could listen to that buttery Australian accent all day long.He’d listen to Sniper read the phonebook, that voice was so intoxicating to him. 

Now would be a most excellent time for a nap, Scout thought as his eyelids grew heavy, but he’d worry about that later.There was no way he was letting this go unreciprocated and unappreciated.His mind was still numb and he didn’t know how well he’d do in this state, but he was overcome with the urge to lick Sniper’s dick like a popsicle melting rapidly in the summer heat.And then some.

“Your turn, Legs,” Scout grinned, patting the seat next to him.Scout’s eyes flicked to the television set as Sniper scrambled to the couch in a flurry of arms and legs.The lifeless beveled glass reflecting the two disheveled men on the couch nearly made him laugh. 

_So much for watchin’ TV,_ Scout said to himself, fumbling at Sniper’s belt buckle.There’d be plenty of time for that afterwards, anyway.There was always something on.

**Author's Note:**

> My last story was written from Sniper's point-of-view, so I decided that this one should be written from Scout's. It was hard to write a Scout-centric story without a shit-ton of dialogue, since he loves to talk, but I wanted to try to convey more inner thoughts than verbal ones. Just to try a little something different.
> 
> I have about five million ideas for stories I want to write, and I don't know which one I'll tackle next. I've recently become enamored with TF2 fusions, so I might do a little something on that, even though it's not all that popular. And I have two ideas for a more drawn-out Sniper/Scout fic (like a multi-chapter deal), and I'd like to pick one of those and write on it. Then again, drabbles/ficlets/oneshots/whatever the hell they're called are a lot of fun to do, too, and I'd like to try my hand at a Sniper/Spy work. 
> 
> I'll just have to see what happens, I suppose...


End file.
